


The Song Remains the Same

by BlackDog9314



Series: Rhapsodic 'Verse Time-Stamps [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Memories, Nostalgia, POV Ellen Harvelle, Professor Ellen Harvelle, Rhapsodic 'verse, time-stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: Professor Ellen Harvelle gets a call from one of her students.





	The Song Remains the Same

**Author's Note:**

> This time stamp could have happened anytime during Dean and Castiel's fall semester.  
> To read the main work these one shots are written to accompany, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2660231/chapters/5945528).

Professor Ellen Harvelle was composing an email at her desk computer when her phone began to vibrate where it sat a few inches from her hand. Seeing that it was almost two o’clock, she frowned as she looked at the name flashing across the screen.

If Dean was calling her just before class, it wouldn’t be for a chat.

_“Dr. Harvelle? I—I’m sorry. My dad’s sick. I don’t think I can come to class today. Is there any way I can come in later and make up the time?”_

Ellen sat back at her desk with a long exhale, idly fingering the spine of the book lying face-down beside her mousepad.

“Dean…” she began. “You’ve done well about making up time in the past, but if you don’t come to class I’ll have to count today’s absence as what it is. I can’t keep making exceptions for you this semester. I know you need them, but…” Ellen’s voice stuck in her throat, and she rubbed at her temples. “You do, and I realize that, but it’s not—”

Dean spoke over her. _“No, it’s fine.”_ He laughed uncomfortably. “ _I understand.”_

He hung up, and Ellen set her phone down as she pulled her legs up toward her chest, the tips of her feet hanging off of her office chair. She tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling, counting the slats of darkness that peaked through the vent above her.

She’d known Dean Winchester since he and Jo were only a few months old and his mother Mary was still alive and well. John Winchester had been kind and young, then. Even before the fire he’d been plenty fond of his drink, but after his wife passed Ellen had seen firsthand the way John fell apart. He’d been fired from one place, then two, then three. He’d developed an ever-lengthening list of establishments he wasn’t allowed at. His sons had looked exhausted and thin when Ellen saw them out.

When John moved his family, it wasn’t a surprise, but it had worried Ellen, made her guts twist and made goosebumps erupt on her skin.

She’d never told Dean or Sam, but she’d looked for the Winchesters periodically. Every few years she’d get an itch in the back of her mind and would sit in front of her computer for hours and google their names.

But then they’d returned, and Jo and Dean were doing each other’s homework and John was going to gas stations where people didn’t know him or his dead wife and buying six-packs, and it was as if they’d never gone anywhere. 

Ellen sighed and lowered her feet to the floor.

She wished she could help Dean, but sooner or later, he was going to have to realize that his father was a sinking ship.


End file.
